Author asks: Who are we, really?

In “What the Heart Remembers,” her new psychological suspense novel, Debra Ginsberg again digs deeply into what it means to be yourself. Much of the book is set in San Diego, where the author lives.

She’ll be at Mysterious Galaxy Friday at 7 p.m. She answered questions by email.

This book hinges on a heart transplant and how it changes the recipient’s life in unexpected ways. It leads to an interesting question: Who are we, really? What got you going in that direction?

In a way, this is a continuation of a theme running through all my novels, the idea that things — and people — are never really what they seem on the surface. I’m endlessly fascinated by the idea of being in someone else’s shoes — of actually being someone else for a moment — in order to understand what goes on inside that person’s head and heart. After a heart transplant, the recipient literally has part of another person within her. It’s an astounding concept from a purely medical point of view. As the jumpoff for a novel, it’s irresistible.

One of the themes here involves cellular memory, the belief that certain habits and attitudes live in more than just the brain. How did you come across that?

I’ve been thinking about the idea of cellular memory since my son was born (which was longer ago than I’d like to admit). It was a traumatic birth for both of us. In my case, the pain was something unimaginable and even though I was told I’d forget it, I don’t think that my body ever did. For my son, there were other complications. In fact, “birth trauma” was the term they used. I wondered then — and for a very long time afterward — about the effect, on a cellular level, of that trauma. After growing an entire person inside my body, this didn’t seem at all like a far-out concept to me.

What’s your own thinking about cellular memory and whether it happens?

I don’t see how it can’t happen, frankly. That is my personal feeling. But I also did quite a bit of research — which included interviews and reading the literature on the subject — and while I know the evidence is anecdotal, it’s difficult to argue with it.

The two main characters, Darcy and Eden, are thrown together by fate, and through them you’re exploring female friendship. Why is that something you wanted to write about?

For one, it wasn’t something I’d done before. But female friendship with all its many shades and intricacies has long been something I’ve wanted to write about. Through these two strong, complicated female characters I also wanted to play with the notion of what makes a character “good” or “bad” and flip these two extremes around a bit.

What if the good character turns out to be bad in some way? What if she wasn’t ever really good at all? Can one ever justify being bad? Most importantly, though, I wanted to put these two characters together and find out what they wanted from each other and how far they were willing to go to get it. I thought that would be very interesting.

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What do you think the main differences are between the friendships of women and the friendships of men?

Well, I’ll give you an example from my own life that I think illustrates it pretty well. Recently, the male friend (let’s call him Mr. X) of a man I know (let’s call him Mr. Y) broke his arm and had it in a full cast. After a long chat with Mr. X, Mr. Y tells me, “The poor guy — he’s in that big cast and he has to move this weekend. Really rough.”

So I said, “I know — awful. How did Mr. X break his arm?”

Mr. Y shrugged and said, “I don’t know, I didn’t ask him.”

“What?” I said. “Why wouldn’t you ask him? Why wouldn’t that be the first thing you asked him?”

“Didn’t come up,” Mr. Y said. “Why does it matter? Why do you have to make everything so complicated?”

If this had been two women? Totally different story.

I couldn’t help but notice that the prologue involves someone driving a car in the rain with broken windshield wipers on winding Del Dios Highway. You don’t drive — did that scene come to you in a nightmare or something?

It’s true — I don’t drive, but I’ve spent plenty of time in cars (it’s unavoidable in Southern California) that other people are driving. Which makes me, in a sense, something of a professional passenger. As such, I’ve been on Del Dios Highway many times; and a few of those times in the rain. It’s beautiful — and also terrifying. Especially as a passenger. It’s funny that you bring this up, actually, because that scene was the very first I wrote — it was the dominant image of the novel for me.

If I’ve done the math right, this is your fourth novel and your seventh book. What was different for you this time?

The main difference between this book and the others was that I wrote this one much faster than I usually do. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was unable to work on the novel for several months after I’d written the first 80 pages or so. I have a certain rhythm with my novels; I write slowly at first, then pick up speed as I really get to know the characters and their world, and finally write the last bit fairly rapidly. But even though I spend a few months writing at a snail’s pace, I’m working on it and thinking about it all the time. This time I did not have that luxury; almost all of the novel was written over the course of seven long, hot weeks last summer.

In what ways is it getting easier, and in what ways is it getting harder?

It doesn’t really get easier, though some of it becomes more familiar each time. By the same token, I’m not sure that the writing part gets harder. The book business, however, is another story.

What other writers of psychological suspense do you most admire?

I’ve long been a fan of Laura Lippman’s work. I also admire Lisa Gardner. And I think Gillian Flynn is absolutely fantastic.

You have a fondness for baking. Any special creations lately?

Several! I made a knitting-themed cake for a friend, a Glastonbury Tor(te) inspired by the Olympics, an astrology-themed cake for a party and, just last week, I made my own wedding cake. It’s been a busy cake season. I’ll be making a special book-themed cake for my signing at Mysterious Galaxy, so everyone who comes out will get a little piece of my What the Heart Remembers. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist).

“What the Heart Remembers,” by Debra Ginsberg, New American Library, 384 pages, $15.